I Used to Think Maybe You Loved Me
by railise
Summary: Gwaine is fond of an apple tree, and she is fond of him- until the day he eats an apple she did not make. (My crack-muse went into overdrive again... :D)


**Prompt:** "walking on sunshine"  
**A/N:** Apparently, my crack!muse went into overdrive for this one. For **ag_fics** Team Fic Battle.

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Soon after Gwaine had arrived at Camelot, he found that he had a favorite apple tree in the palace orchards. It made what were, in his opinion, the sweetest, juiciest, most perfect fruit he had ever seen, and he often found himself wandering down the sun-dappled path from the castle to the orchard just to visit that tree.

Likewise, the tree became especially fond of Gwaine. Most people who visited the tree plucked her apples and flung them in a basket, to be mixed with those from any number of other trees around. But Gwaine- he clearly preferred her apples above all others. Not only did he like her apples, he also seemed to enjoy her shade, spending many an afternoon leaning against her trunk as he snacked away, and occasionally, napped. Once in a while, he even thanked her when picking an apple from her branches. After he had come along, she put special effort into making her fruit the sweetest, juiciest, and most perfect it could be.

But then, the Dark Day came. Gwaine came down the path... munching on a _green_ apple. At first, the tree thought she must be mistaken; after all, she only made red apples.

She only made red apples.

She could not believe it; how _could_ he? After all she had done to make perfect apples for him, and this was how he repaid her?

At first, she was injured, but when he went to pick one of her own apples whilst still chewing on that green one, she became angry.

The green apple Cook had insisted he take was all right, but Gwaine would really have preferred one from his favorite tree. Still, there was no sense in letting a decent apple go to waste, so he chewed on it as he went down to get an amazing one.

As he reached up for an apple, he suddenly found himself shielding his head as a positive avalanche of them rained down. Jumping back, he looked up to see what could have caused it, but... nothing. There was no explanation that he could see. Cautiously, Gwaine picked a couple of apples up off of the ground, and made his way back to the path- peeking over his shoulder at the tree in confusion as he went.

The tree fumed as he made off with some apples to eat. Well. If he thought he was getting any more, he was sadly mistaken.

A few days later, he loped down the path again, mouth already watering at the prospect of biting into one of his favorite apples... but was met with disappointment when he got to the tree. Every apple was rotten to the core. Very concerned now, Gwaine hied off in search of the master of the orchards.

"Dunno what it could be," the man said, scratching his head. "Weren't a problem with her a few days ago."

"Do you think it could be an enchantment?"

"I suppose, but why would somebody enchant one tree? The others are fine."

Gwaine had no answer for that, but he checked back daily to see if things had improved- and they had not.

With the lifetime a tree can lead, they are capable of holding grudges for some time.

A week later, the master of the orchards came in to the meeting of the Round Table, to give his report. After summing up the fruit harvested that week and the expenses for upkeep, he said, "There's one tree what's gone rotten. We should cut it down before it infects the others."

Arthur nodded. "All right-"

"No!" Gwaine stood up. "That's the best tree in the whole orchard; you can't just cut it down after a bad week."

"If it's gone rotten and could affect the rest, I don't think we have a choice," Arthur pointed out, wondering what had gotten into his knight. "It's a _tree._"

"I won't allow it," Gwaine declared.

Shooting a confused glance at him, Arthur turned back to the orchard master. "We will discuss this later."

Gwaine could not wait for the meeting to end. As soon as it had adjourned, he made a brief stop in the palace storerooms, then ran down the path to the orchards.

When a pair of orchard workers came over later that afternoon with axes, they found one of the king's knights chained to the tree they had been ordered to dispose of.

"Here now, what's this?" the elder worker called.

Gwaine crossed his arms over the chain, which was wrapped around his midsection and the tree trunk, and fastened with a big lock. "You are not cutting down this tree," he announced.

They glanced at one another. "We've been ordered by our master, who has orders from the king," the elder worker replied.

"If you want to cut down this tree, you'll have to go through me." Gwaine planted his feet a bit wider apart, in a more defiant stance.

Not particularly wanting to face off with a knight of the realm, they left to find the master of the orchards. "Sir Gwaine," he said, approaching with his workers trailing behind. "King Arthur has given me instructions to get rid of this tree for the good of the orchards."

"This tree sets the bar for the orchards," Gwaine countered. "To cut it down would be a crime."

The tree could not believe it. They wanted to cut her down?! But... Gwaine was defending her, protecting her from the axes.

"By blocking us, you're defying an order from the king," the orchard master pointed out.

Gwaine drew his sword. "Why don't you come closer and say that?"

All three men stepped back, despite the fact that they were already well out of range. Patiently, the master tried once more, "We can't risk the rot spreading."

Oh, dear. Suddenly, the tree realized what was going on. They thought she was ill- and not just ill, but contagious. She had to convince them she was not; she had to produce a good apple.

She focused, pouring every ounce of energy she could into making the most perfect piece of fruit ever.

Meanwhile, the men faced off on the ground below her branches. "Go see if the king can come," the master said quietly to the younger of his workers, who took off running toward the castle. Gwaine knew exactly where he was headed and why, but was not going to budge. The minutes ticked by in silence, until Arthur arrived, the younger worker a proper distance behind.

"Gwaine, what the hell is wrong with you?" Arthur demanded.

"You have to trust me on this, Sire."

"No offense, but I think I'm more inclined to trust men who have worked with trees their whole lives, rather than someone who just likes to eat apples."

Gwaine could not come up with a ready retort for that one, but as he considered it, an apple dropped onto the ground between him and the others. It was not brown as the others had been recently, but a vibrant red; it was not misshapen, but a perfect apple shape. Gwaine smiled and sheathed his sword.

"If you can still say we should cut down this tree after taking a bite from that, I'll walk away and never speak of this again."

Arthur looked dubious. "I'm not eating a rotten apple."

"Does that look rotten to you?"

Arthur glanced at the orchard master, who shrugged. "Looks all right, to me."

Picking it up, Arthur reluctantly took a bite- and then another. "This is amazing," he said around a mouthful of fruit. "Gwaine, unchain yourself. No one is chopping the tree down."

With a triumphant grin, Gwaine did as he was told.

"I'm sorry, Sire. I've no explanation," the master said.

Still eating, Arthur said, "Just see to it that this doesn't happen again." He started to walk away, but turned back. "And take extra-special care of that tree."

The master and workers all bowed and, puzzling over what could possibly have happened, went back about their other duties.

As Gwaine was gathering up the chain and lock, he heard something hit the ground behind him. An even more perfect apple than the one Arthur had been given was laying on the ground. He patted the trunk of the tree. "Glad you're feeling better."

She was feeling more than better; she was elated. Her well-being was assured now that she had the king's attention, and her fondness for Gwaine was reciprocated. From then on, whenever he walked down that path dappled with sunlight, there was always a perfect apple waiting for him.


End file.
